Stone like an Acorn

Scared but proud I shuffled off the stage
Handed a gift I thought was my future
Little did I know this stone was to become
A symbol of my waning devotion to music

A stone with colours in all respect dull
The shape of an acorn
One in a hundred
But the most cherished of them all

Year after year I tirelessly practice
But now I think
What is the point?
All it does is cause me despair

Skill comes with practice
But as I play my dread is unblurred
Every hour my love is fading
And so does the stone

The stage is no longer my dream
To quit could be an opportunity
But to live without my love
Would be to live a nostalgic life